A Place in the dirt

"No, honey.. You're not going to die." Miriam put her lips to his damp, tear-streaked cheek, squeezing her arms around him. "I will do whatever I can to protect you. I would die for you. I should have slit that bastard's throat when I had the chance. Then none of this would have happened." He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it over and over again. He turned her hand over, studied the deep, stinging scar on her wrist, and the burn she had recieved when the ropes pulling them to this dreadful place kept digging fiercely into her skin. He kissed the cut carved across her wrist, quick, gentle kisses that glided across her flesh. She smiled, tears clinging to her long, black lashes, as he kissed his way up her arm tentatively and came to a stop at her small shoulder, where he rested his pounding head. She smiled worriedly, holding him close to her. She rested her ear against his chest and listened to the pulse of his racing heart, but as she looked up, she percieved a body, kneeling down to the soft earth, and weeping with agony. Miriam granted her love a kiss on the cheek and then crept away from Aaron, lurking apprehensively toward the person, who was clasping her shaking wrist, which had the same jagged slash upon it that Miriam had been engraved with several days ago. Miriam perched down gently beside the figure, and though Miriam's vision seemed contorted and shattered with dismay and concern for the victim, she realized that it was a woman, who possessed a callow-looking face, deep brown eyes, and dark blond hair streaked with a bit of purple, the curly ringlets hanging limply over one fragile shoulder. Tears poured down the woman's face, as she grasped her wound, blood spilled onto her hands unceasingly, a little pool of the crimson fluid daubing the soil around her. The gash was such a vast slit into her skin that if the cut couldn't be healed, it looked like the woman would bleed to death. The pretty woman maintained her pitiful sobbing, as Miriam swiftly seized the hem of her skirt and tore off a shred of fabric, taking hold of the woman's arm and enclosing the penetration by winding the piece of clothing like a rag over the woman's wrist.She applied pressure to the rent flesh, pressing down softly with her fingers, and the woman gave a quiet gasp of pain before slipping into unconsciousness. Miriam removed the fabric from the wound to see if it had stopped bleeding, but the bloody liquid was streaming out more than ever, and Miriam was sure there would be no way to stop the anquish. She kept putting pressure on the female's wrist, pushing down harder now, tears starting to form beneath her own eyes, she didn't want the woman to die. Just another terrorized victim who would find a place in the dirt, in the end. There was no way around demise, when death took it's toll, everything would eventually fade to black, for everyone. Only the immortal were safe from the boundaries of a broken life. The death victim's blood was seeping all over Miriam's trembling hands, and no longer could she feel the constant pulse of blood flowing through the victim's wrist. Miriam sat back sullenly, feeling horrible that she hadn't been able to save the woman's life, but a man with intense blue eyes and curled golden hair strode up to her deceased body. He bent down, touching the slice in her wrist that had bled her dry, and clasped his eyes shut. His light pink lips barely seemed to move as he mumbled these words softly: "Adion broji rhimout frasew, julio comeze sholop chian. Lory brilee!" It sounded like he was speaking in a foreign language. Suddenly the dead woman panted and sputtered as her spirit was returned back into her body, and the man's mouth curved into a relieved smile as he helped her up. The woman gazed down at her wrist, and the incision that would scar her for a lifetime. The puddle of scarlet blood around her had dissipated, washed away, as Aaron meandered toward them, curiously. "What happened, Miriam?" Aaron asked, and the man shifted his weight anxiously. "He saved my life," the woman told Aaron, indicating towards the man, who's cheeks became a dark red hue as he bowed his head. "I tried to help her," Miriam said quietly, turning away. "I would have used magick, but my healing powers aren't that strong yet." Miriam changed her poisition, sitting with her legs crossed, her hands supporting her chin. She felt like crying for some odd reason. "Thank you for trying to help me," the woman said sincerely, "It was the least I could do," Miriam muttered, she turned her face away so no one would see her and a tear rolled down her cheek. "You should go," Anarane whispered to her, patting her shoulder gently. "Try and escape from here. Here there is only death, pain, awe. Unless you're willing to sell your soul to become a monster, you will die here. And unless you surrender, your days shall be filled with torment, hunger, tears and unhappiness. You must leave, for a soul as pure as yours deserves not be deprived of it's life, of it's bliss. Run or you will never be happy again." Aaron and Miriam exchanged empty looks, and Miriam brushed the tear off her face and replied, "No. I'm staying here to fight. I want to take them all, one by one." Anarane shook her head darkly, and returned, "You cannot fight them all, Miriam.They're looking for new prisoners, new slaves. There are too many of them for one person alone, to handle." Aaron's eyes brightened. "Let's all go together," he suggested, running a hand through his shaggy brown mane. "We could try," Akil concurred, "but it would have to be fast." "Let's go then!" Miriam said, she stood up wiping the tears from her eyes and feeling strong, once again. The feeble light inside her had burned out to be replaced by a new courage. The three others followed her, and they stalked across the rough field, Miriam leading them, Akil and Anarane ambling together, hand in hand, and Aaron marched on his own. They had all almost managed to escape, until one of the powerful orcs had seized Miriam's arm, dragging her back into the deathcamp. She struggled and wrestled with it, but her arms fell limp at her sides, and she felt weak and disspirited to fight. Aaron noticed Miriam's disappearance and rotated around to find her being pulled away by a fierce-looking orc, and he jogged after her. Miriam saw him chasing after her, and shook her head, and mouthed 'Run'. He gave her a look of regret as he turned around reluctantly, and headed away. The beast grabbed her around the waist, bringing her closer to it's thick,gritty body as it carried her across the field of dark green grass, and there it dropped her. She collapsed to the ground, striking her head against the feather-soft dirt surrounding her. Miriam watched it timidly, as it unsheathed a sword from it's belt, and held it at the ready in it's wide hand. "Join us, and you need not die," the orc snarled, pinning her shoulder to the ground with his free hand so that she couldn't get away. "No, and would it kill you to wash your hair?" she sneered back savagely. The orc's ugly face's trace of a smile vanished quickly, replaced by an expression of anger on it's disturbed features. It knelt close beside her, holding it's sword at her throat, growling into her ear, "This is your last chance. Join us!" the orc screamed echoingly into her ear, and she looked at it in fear. She re-gained her ground and muttered, "What's in it for me?" The blade in the creature's hand began to slide down her neck, and she cried out with the pain as it drove through her pale white skin, slowly penetrating deeper. The beast held her down firmly as it continued to cut open her flesh, and crimson tears of pain streamed out, forming a large pool of blood on the ground, where she was being pinned down, and she squirmed and writhed as the orc slashed her skin deeper. "Stop it!" Miriam wailed, but the cruel monster kept gliding the blade along her neck, and shoulders, leaving drops of blood spurting from her multiple wounds.